


Wooden Skin

by sentimentalboyd



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M, Ryden, i uwued when writing this, i'm sorry it's weird, it's cute I swear, owo, owo x2, puppet, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:46:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sentimentalboyd/pseuds/sentimentalboyd
Summary: Brendon looked at Ryan in his sleeping state, knowing that he'd probably have to hurry to the closet before he turns to wood right there and then. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the boy's forehead, watching as the moonlight poured onto his pale skin. Then, he made his way back to the closet, closing the wooden door himself.Where he belongs.





	Wooden Skin

**Author's Note:**

> (Please read) Hi, sorry if this sucks, haven't written in a while. Basically Brendon is a puppet that only comes to life around Ryan. Imagine Brendon as AFYCSO puppet Brendon on stage. As for the actual puppet Brendon, you can imagine him however you like, which is why I didn't put too much detail. Sorry if it's a lil weird or cringy hehe, enjoy.

"What does pain feel like?"

Ryan shifted his position as he heard the question, tilting his head to think about it. He didn't really know how to reply to that.

"Well, it depends," he starts, after a quick moment of silence. "Pain is objective. There's emotional pain, and there's physical pain. They both can hurt a lot, but depending on the person, one can hurt more than the other."

Brendon lightly swung his legs back and forth as he looked up at the boy next to him, nodding as he listens. "Which one do you think hurts more?" Brendon asks, his wide and curious eyes making direct contact with Ryan's. 

Ryan made eye contact for a moment before looking down again. "That's a good question," he nods, biting his lip as he thought. He kept his hands planted on either side of the mattress below him, gripping it lightly. "I guess emotional. I'm a sensitive guy," he giggled.

The other boy smiled at his comment, his plump lips curling upwards on both sides as he kept his eyes on Ryan. His dark mocha bangs were scattered neatly across his forehead, and his cheeks were a bright red. Well, not from blushing. From the face paint. 

"But, what does it feel like?" Brendon asked again, his curiosity not allowing Ryan to escape from the original question. Ryan tugged on his lower lip with his teeth again, thinking of how exactly to explain it. He knows Brendon hasn't experienced much, so Ryan is always his main source of information. Or, his only source.

Ryan took a deep breath before answering, his eyes still glued to the floor. "It feels like- like an ache. An ache in your chest," he starts, bring his hand up to his chest as a gesture and then bringing it back down. "It's a stinging ache in your chest, and a clouded feeling in your head. It feels like your stomach twists and then drops."

Brendon didn't really know how to reply to that, mainly because he didn't know what that meant. But he liked Ryan's poetic-ness, so he kept a soft smile on his face as he listened. "What about the physical pain?" he questioned again, his curiosity getting the best of him. 

"Hm. Well, it just stings on the outside. It's hard to explain that one," he admits. "But both pains can really hurt someone, you know? Both can last your entire life. Whether it's a heartbreak, or a physical impairment," he says, looking back up meeting the other boy's eyes again. 

Brendon didn't know what these big words meant, but he nodded. Ryan's voice was soothing enough for him to listen. It was like a soft buzz in his ears, that he just loved the sound of. 

Ryan caught the gist that Brendon didn't really understand what he was saying, so he shrugged and looked down. "It's okay if you don't get it. Other people usually don't understand me either," he says, laughing dryly after.

"Just because I'm not real doesn't mean I don't get it," Brendon disputes. Ryan immediately shook his head, bringing his swinging feet up into a criss-cross stance as he positioned himself to be looking at Brendon. "Don't say that Bren; you're real," he assures.

Brendon shrugged and looked down, a bit sadly. Ryan didn't like when he was sad. Brendon often doesn't feel extreme emotions, but when he does feel something other than happy, Ryan feels upset. Emotional pain. 

"If you weren't real, then would I be able to do this?" Ryan says after a moment, defeating the silence by leaning in and beginning to tickle Brendon. The boy's frown curled upwards into a soft giggle, his eyes squinting in pleasure as the adorable sounds came out of him. "I get it! I get it!" Brendon giggles, clutching his gut, which was where Ryan was tickling him from.

Ryan giggled softly as well, moving his hands away from Brendon's midsection and back into his own lap. "See? Now don't say that again," Ryan declares, feeling proud that he made Brendon giggle. A soft smile remained on Brendon's face as he nodded, looking back up at Ryan.

Ryan knows that he's real. He doesn't know why Brendon would think otherwise. Even though he may have painted on red cheeks that people didn't usually have. Or maybe because he has black stripes running from his lower waterline to his mid-cheek, resembling long eyelashes. Maybe even the black lines running from the corners of his lips down. Those things don't define him. Sure, he's not like the others. But being like the others doesn't make you human. At least, that's Ryan's mentality.

He met Brendon when he was seven. He says met rather than got, since he sees him as much as a person as the next. His father had been at the toy shop with him, letting little Ryan roam free and choose any toy of his liking. It was a homemade toy shop, meaning everything was one of a kind, which just made it all even more special. But when his eyes focused on a small wooden doll, one with driftwood brown eyes and mocha brown hair, Ryan knew he was the one. But it was only when he arrived home that he realized his puppet wasn't just a puppet. 

Sometimes, Ryan thinks he himself is pathetic. That his only friend is a puppet. But it's so much more than that. He's real; he's talking to him now, and he has been for the last ten years. Only around Ryan his true self can come out. Cliché, huh? But it's quite literal rather than figurative.

"When you- when you come home with those, um, those bruises on your face, is that a physical pain? You told me the bullies do it, and you seem to have the physical pain when you come home," Brendon says, interrupting Ryan's train of thought. He shook out of his gaze and strengthened his back, still sitting criss-cross as he faced Brendon on his bed. 

"Yeah... those- those bullies cause physical pain," he nods, looking down, feeling a little embarrassed. But he knows he has no need to feel that, since Brendon doesn't make fun of him, and he always accepts him.

Brendon opens his mouth to ask another question, but the sound of jingling keys being inserted into the door downstairs was enough to cut his thoughts off. He frowned at the familiar sound; it meant Ryan's dad was home. When Ryan's dad arrived home, Brendon had to go back to the closet. The dreaded closet that he spends most of his time in. When Ryan is at school, when his dad his home, and when Ryan sleeps- Brendon goes to the closet. The closet means no Ryan, which is automatically a turn off for Brendon.

Ryan sighed softly, the frown on his face matching Brendon's. "Sorry," he mumbles, brushing his bang out of his eye as he slowly stands up. Brendon was hesitant in following his movement, but he eventually stood up as well. He doesn't know why he always gets so upset; he knows it's inevitable, and that at the end of the day, the closet is where he belongs. 

The sound of the keys jingling downstairs soon turned into the sound of an opening door, the carpet making a sound below it as his father let out a deep sigh and placed his keys on the counter. Ryan went over to the closet and opened it up nonchalantly, seeing as they usually did this every night. But when Brendon looked into that closet, it was like an abyss of darkness. The most dreaded place he'd ever seen. But, of course, he always ends up back there. 

"I'll get you when my dad sleeps, okay?" Ryan assured, seeing the obvious frown on Brendon's face. The boy nodded sadly, trying to cover up his sadness with a polite smile. He took a step into the closet, darkness engulfing him, as he turns around. Ryan quickly places a soft kiss to his forehead before gripping the wooden door and closing it. Any ray of light that entered the closet at that moment had disappeared. He rushed over to his bed and grabbed a book as he laid down, hearing his father come up the stairs. He's glad his father usually works a little later, but he'd like it if he worked a bit more. As bad as it sounds, he just wants to have more time with Brendon.

Brendon stiffened in the closet. Without Ryan, he wasn't himself. He wasn't that curious boy with a soft giggle. No, he was a toy. A small, gently carved item of wood that had messy face paint and a fake smile. He hated it, but it's the reality. He can't sleep, and he can't eat, even in his human form. Without Ryan, he felt.. the emotional pain.

His father opened the door and peaked inside, seeing Ryan laying on his bed reading a book, just like he did every other time. "Hey," his dad says, and Ryan nods back, keeping his eyes glued on his book. Brendon listened from in the closet. Even though he couldn't move, he could still hear. And think. The closet gives him a lot of time to think.

"So, uh, how was school?" his father asks, trying to make some type of conversation. Ryan keeps the same position, but his eyes move up to see his dad. "It was fine," he decides on saying, immediately moving his eyes back to the book. There's no way his dad hasn't noticed the bruises all over Ryan's jaw. He must've. Or maybe he just didn't care enough.

His dad lingers there for another moment before folding his lips together, nodding dismissively and then leaving the room. Ryan sighed and looked back at his book. He couldn't let Brendon out while his dad was around. He was always anxious that he'd hear him, and that would mean Brendon would be taken away from him. Ryan didn't want that.

When nighttime dawned, Ryan laid in his bed with his book, impatiently waiting for his dad to go to sleep. He wrapped the warm, checkered bed sheets around himself as he finally heard sound moving up the stairs. It was late at night by now, as Ryan could hear the crickets outside, and the only source of light in his room was coming from the moon. 

The door to his father's room finally closed, and after a few minutes, Ryan was sure he was asleep. He sat up from his bed and quietly took steps towards the closet, bringing his hand out to pull the wooden door open.

Moonlight poured in from the window into the darkness of the closet, and that's when Brendon returned to his human form. He stretched out his arms a bit, feeling skin instead of wood. Without another thought, he launched himself onto Ryan, hugging him and practically bouncing with excitement. The feel of Brendon's sewed on jacket rubbed against Ryan's thin t-shirt. "I missed you!" he giggled. This was nothing new to Ryan; this is usually how Brendon acted every time. But, he couldn't help but think it was adorable.

Ryan smiled and wrapped his long arms around the shorter boy, enrapturing him in a hug. "I missed you too," he said, with a quiet voice. "We gotta be quiet. My dad's sleeping," he whispered. Brendon pulled back from the hug, staying close to him, and nodding. "Right, quiet!" he giggled, now whispering. 

Ryan reached down and held the boy's hand nonchalantly, leading him over to the bed to sit down. He knew Brendon didn't understand how romantic relationships worked, or even the fact that they exist. But, he still liked to do these comforting gestures to him, like holding his hand, or even little kisses on his cheek. It was nice.

Brendon sat down on the bed with him, crossing his legs as Ryan did the same. He had a bright smile on his face as he looked at Ryan. He seemed to look extra beautiful right now. The moonlight creeping it's way through the window hit the side of Ryan's face, making his hazel eyes pop out even more. It was a gorgeous sight, at least to him.

Ryan thought the same. Though his bedroom was dark, he could see the side of Brendon's face, thanks to the moon. Brendon's long eyelashes were even more defined, as the soft light made the curl of them more visible. His painted red cheeks faded in color a bit, taking in some of the paleness of the moon. 

He watches as Brendon tilts his head, looking out at the moonlight. He knows Brendon has never been outside, which he feels a bit guilty about. He just feels like he'd be overwhelmed by it. But he should take him out some day. After all, he's human too.

"It's pretty, right?" Ryan says, now looking at the moon along with Brendon. He scoots closer to him on the bed, both of them now looking out at the pale night.

"Yeah, it is," Brendon replied, glancing at Ryan for a brief moment before averting his gaze back at the moon. He lightly leans his head on Ryan's shoulder, now gently pressed up against him. A soft smile made its way onto Ryan's lips, as he looked down at the dazed Brendon. 

They sat there for what felt like forever, but in reality, it was only a few minutes. Some time during it, Brendon pops his head up excitedly and looks over at Ryan. "You should read me another book!" he suggests, in an enthusiastic whisper-shout.

He loves how Brendon randomly expresses the thoughts in his head. It's just one of his quirks. "Sure," he nods. Brendon claps excitedly, though it was a soft and inaudible one, so that his dad wouldn't hear.

Ryan walks over to his bookshelf, which was absolutely packed with novels of all kinds. But, the one he was interested in was the very bottom shelf. Over the years, he had bought a variety of short, children books. He would often read them to Brendon, since they were easy for him to understand. He knows Brendon isn't a kid, not at all, but he doesn't have much experience with things. So, children books were the way to go.

Ryan grabbed one called "James and the Giant Peach", which was one Brendon would probably enjoy. It's not for really little kids, but more-so for older ones. They wouldn't be able to make through it all in one night, but they could start. He makes his way back to the bed and sits criss-cross again, facing the moon next to Brendon again.

"This one's pretty long, but we can at least get through a chapter," he says, looking at Brendon next to him. The other boy nodded happily, leaning his head against Ryan's shoulder again, facing the moonlight together.

Ryan read the chapter quietly to Brendon, making sure to keep his voice low, since his dad was sleeping just across the hall. He used the shine of the moon to be able to see the words on the page, which worked. Brendon just laid on his shoulder the entire time, occasionally giggling at something Ryan read, or asking questions about it. 

After about a half an hour of reading, Ryan was getting really tired. He stopped reading for a moment to yawn, reaching up and rubbing his eye with the one that wasn't wrapped around Brendon.

He looked up at Ryan, biting his lip softly. "If you're tired, you can sleep," Brendon says, feeling bad for having Ryan stay up for him. But, Ryan shook his head. "I'll be fine," he assures, tugging the arm around Brendon's waist closer to him. Brendon nods as a response, curling up closer to Ryan and keeping his head on his shoulder. 

Ryan continued reading for another page or so, before he got undeniably tired. Brendon saw that he was obviously about to pass out, so he set the book to the side for him. "Goodnight," he whispers, getting up from his curling position and lightly laying Ryan properly onto the bed. After a moment or so, he heard peaceful and quiet snores coming from the taller boy below him.

He looked at him in his sleeping state, knowing that he'd probably have to hurry to the closet before he turns to wood right there and then. He leans in and presses a soft kiss to the boy's forehead, watching as the moonlight poured onto his pale skin. Then, he made his way back to the closet, closing the wooden door himself.

Where he belongs. 

-

Ryan woke in the morning to the feeling of bright rays of light burning onto his eyelids. He must've forgotten to close the blinds last night.

He was thankful he woke up to the sting of light rather than the beeping screech of his alarm clock. At least it was the weekend now, which means more time with Brendon. His dad worked early on the weekends, but came home earlier as well. 

He sat up straight and yawned, shaking his messy bed hair out of his eyes as he rushed over to the closet.

As he routinely pulled the wooden doors back, a boy with skin, not wood, was revealed. A ray of light coming from the window shined on the side of his face, and wow, does he always look this good?

Yes.

Brendon smiled bright and quickly launched towards him, hugging him routinely. It was their special way of saying hello.

He has a lot of time to think at night. Since he doesn't sleep, but only stays stiff in the darkness as he listens to the other boy's soft snores. It was peaceful, sure, but it gets boring over time. But that's just how it is. It's what he's used to.

Ryan laced his hand with the other boy's as he led him over to the bed. They sat criss-cross from each other and smiled, just like they did every other day.

It was always the same.

Brendon tilted his head to look out the window, the same one he looked at the moon with yesterday. He remembers taking in the paleness of that big orb in the sky that Ryan always talks about. He decides to do the same with the sun. So, he looks out at the sun, smiling as he does so.

Wait- why do his eyes burn? 

Ryan looked at him squinting his eyes at the sun, and he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. He then realized that Brendon was trying to stare at the sun.

"Uh- Bren, don't do that," he giggles, placing his hand gently on the boy's chin and directing his gaze to himself rather than the sun.

Brendon closes his eyes and rubs them with his wrists, obviously confused. "Why do my eyes hurt?" he asked, clueless.

Ryan giggled a bit. He knew Brendon didn't understand some basic stuff, but it was just adorable. "You can't look at the sun, B. It's too bright," he explained. Brendon nodded, saying "Oh" as he began to understand. 

Brendon bounced his leg as he looked at Ryan and then around at his room. He remembers every tiny detail of it, like the 'band' posters on top of his bed, or even the crooked lamp that sat on his wooden end table. It's the only place he's ever known. That got him thinking.

"When can I go outside?" he wonders out loud.

Ryan's eyebrows raised at the question. Brendon has asked a few times, sure, but that was a while ago.

"Oh. Hm," he says, biting his lip just a bit. The only reason he hasn't let him is just because he's scared. Brendon has a lot of energy, and he nearly just tried to have a staring competition with the sun.

"I promise, Ry," Brendon starts. "I'll stay next to you, and, I'll try not to shout!" he assures, ironically shouting the sentence.

Ryan took a deep breath. "Okay, yeah. We can. Just for a bit, until my dad gets home," he says, hesitantly but sure.

-

After Ryan finished applying foundation and powder to a very bouncy Brendon, he gave him a hand mirror to glance at himself with. He couldn't let Brendon go out with painted red cheeks and stripes of black drawn on his face, so he had to cover it up. Brendon looked beautiful in his normal state, but wow, he looks amazing with a bare face.

Brendon's eyes widened as he caught sight of himself in the mirror. "Woah, I look- different," he says, staring right at his new reflection. 

"Yeah," Ryan nods, taking another look at him. "I'll get you a sweatshirt, you can just throw it over your coat."

Brendon nods as he watches Ryan walk off to the drawers, and then directs his gaze back at the mirror. He looked weird without his face paint, but, he looked normal.

Ryan grabs a purple sweatshirt and tosses it on the bed next to Brendon, hoping he'd know how to put it on. He's seen Ryan get changed dozens of times, so he should know. He turns back towards his drawers and picks out some jeans he could wear, since pajama pants probably wouldn't be the best thing to go out with.

As he's turned away from Brendon, taking off his pants, he hears a muffled sound coming from behind him. He kicks off his pajama pants and then glances at Brendon, who was hidden inside the sweatshirt.

"Ry- I think I'm stuck," he warns, the top of his head peaking up from the purple sweatshirt. His arms were all jumbled inside the hoodie, and he seemed lost in it.

"Shit- lemme help," Ryan says, rushing over to Brendon in only his boxers and attempting to help him out. He stretched the fabric a bit and then tried to find Brendon's arms, tugging them in each sleeve and then pulling it down onto his body.

Brendon's head popped up from the collar of the hoodie, his hair all over the place from the little charade. "Thanks," he giggled, his cheeks turning a shade of pink. This time, it wasn't face paint.

"No problem. Oh, here," he amends, leaning in and fixing Brendon's hair with the movement of his fingers. Brendon's face lightened up at the movement.

After another moment or so, they were already heading out his bedroom door. Brendon has been downstairs a few times, but not many, so Ryan had to help him down the stairs, slowly but surely.

Once they were downstairs, Brendon glanced around curiously before looking at the front door. Ryan took a deep breath before opening it up, gripping Brendon's hand in his own as he walked outside with him.

Brendon's eyes were wide with excitement, and his plump lips parted as his eyes searched all around at his environment. "Woah," he breathes out, feeling the breeze of the cool wind on his skin for the very first time.

Ryan smiled at his excitement, closing the door behind them with his free hand and then turning back to face Brendon. "Ta da," he smiled. "So just make sur-"

Before Ryan could even blink, Brendon was already kneeling down and fiddling with the grass on the floor. His hand lightly brushed across it, and he giggled, as the soft prick of the grass made his palms tickle.

"Look, Ry! Is this.. hm, grass?" he recalls, trying to gather up all of the information he's ever known to try and figure out what it was.

Ryan still held a grip on his hand as he looked down at the kneeling boy. "Yeah, grass," he smiles. He's never seen Brendon so excited in his life, and honestly, he should've done this sooner.

Brendon popped back up to a standing position in a quick movement, his bangs flopping on his head. His eyes darted around some more, searching for anything he could relatively recognize from Ryan's descriptions. He looked to his side and noticed this big, wooden pole.

"Is this a tree?" Brendon asks, twisting his eyebrows as he looks up at the tall object. It's wooden and big, just like how Ryan described it.

Ryan giggled a bit. "No, B, that's a utility pole," he corrects. "But, you were close. That's a tree," he amends, pointing across the street to a much bigger wooden pole, which was apparently a tree.

Brendon made an "ahh" sound, as if realizing that he was wrong. He glanced over at the tree across the street from him, and he immediately started running towards it, dragging Ryan behind him as if he was an excited dog on a leash.

"Woah- Bren, be careful, there might be cars-" he warns, his hazel eyes widening as Brendon drags him across the street. Ryan was thankful there were no cars on the road, since that wouldn't be good at all.

Brendon seemed to have ignored Ryan's warning as he looked up at the tree with awe in his eyes. "Hello tree," he says, tilting his head straight upwards to see the jade leaves scattered on the branches.

Ryan laughed a bit, keeping his hand laced with Brendon's as he tilted his head up as well, calming down from the sudden movement of running across a street without warning. "It's pretty, right?" Ryan says, keeping his eyes on the jade pattern.

"Yeah. Really pretty," Brendon agrees, still in awe. 

They stayed there for a moment, looking up at the leaves, which were blocking the harsh light the sun would be pounding onto them right now. He looked down and saw some of the leaves on the floor, so he bent down, keeping his hand laced with Brendon's, and grabbed one. "Here," he says, smiling as he hands the jade leaf to Brendon.

Brendon diverts his gaze from the leaves and instead looks at Ryan and the singular leaf. His mouth parted in awe as he took it, inspecting it in his hands. "Thanks, Ry."

This day will be amazing.

-

This day was not amazing.

Lots of things went wrong. It started off so well, but it quickly took a downfall.

First of all, as they were walking down the sidewalk, Ryan told Brendon to watch out for the lip. He hadn't realized that Brendon didn't know what that meant, so he ended up tripping on the ledge and scraping his palms against the cement. They thankfully didn't bleed, but still scratched. Brendon learned what physical pain was.

Then, at one point, a car came zooming past them. Brendon clung onto Ryan for his dear life, a piercing scream coming from his mouth. Ryan assured to him that he'd be okay, and that it was just a car. Brendon learned what fear was.

Later on, Ryan took Brendon to an ice cream shop. He knows Brendon doesn't really have to eat, but he wanted to test out if he could. But when the employee handed Brendon his vanilla cone with extra rainbow sprinkles, Brendon grabbed it by the cream rather than the cone, causing it to splat all over his hands and the floor. Maybe ice cream wasn't the best food to start off with. He didn't seem too happy. Brendon learned what sadness was. 

Eventually, Ryan took him to a pet shop, since it would probably be exciting for his first time. Brendon was excited and respectful at first, yes, but he soon diminished that by dipping his hand in a fish tank, trying to grab one of the goldfish. Brendon learned what messes were.

As soon as they left the pet shop and began heading back to their house, Ryan began to debate on whether or not this was all a good idea. Brendon seemed a bit overwhelmed by everything. He was really excited and energetic at first, which he still is, but he's now much more cautious. 

"I'm sorry," Ryan mumbles, making his way down the sidewalk again with Brendon, his hand still laced with the other boy's slightly scraped ones.

Brendon's eyebrows twist in confusion. "What are you apologizing for?" he asks, genuinely unsure. 

"For today," Ryan replies. "It was a total mess. I- I should've taught you more. I really tried my best, B, I swear," he pleads.

Brendon folds his lips as he looks over at Ryan, immediately turning them into a smile. "Ry- what are you saying? Today was amazing!" he exclaimed, practically buzzing with excitement once more. "I- got to experience stuff. Like, actual stuff!"

Ryan looked at him with raised eyebrows, surprised he actually enjoyed it. "Really? You liked it?" he asks, in which Brendon nods eagerly to. Ryan's eyes avert back to the moving sidewalk below him before looking back up. "Well, I'm glad."

When they finally got home, Brendon was sad but pleased. He enjoyed the day very much, and he'd really like to do it again some time. Ryan promised they would, so Brendon was pleasantly happy.

They arrived a little bit late, so Ryan's dad would probably be home any second. And soon enough, the familiar sound of the keys in the door made its way upstairs, and Brendon knew his perfect day had come to an end.

Ryan frowned, and as did Brendon, but they both knew this would happen. But Brendon's always there for him, so there's no need to worry.

"I'll talk to you later," Ryan smiled sadly, walking over to the wooden closet and pulling the knob. Brendon sighed and slipped off the purple sweatshirt Ryan had gave him for the day. The foundation was still on, but it'll probably disappear as he turns back to normal. 

As he slips off the sweatshirt, a familiar green leaf sways back and forth in the air before hitting the ground. Brendon quickly grabs it and takes it with him as he makes his way back into the closet, offering Ryan another sad smile, until he saw the door close in front of him.

Darkness.

-

The weekend wasn't as good as it could've been. Ryan's dad apparently had off from work the next day, in which Ryan wasn't pleased about. He was apparently trying to use his day off to neaten up the house, or something like that. Ryan only got to talk to Brendon one other time during the weekend, which was late on a Saturday night. They sat on his bed as they stared out at the moon, and Ryan read him another chapter of "James and the Giant Peach."

When Ryan woke up for school on Monday, he made sure to get up extra early, so that he could quietly converse with Brendon a bit before his dad woke up. Ryan had his usual messy bed hair, and Brendon had his usual painted on cheeks and striped eyelashes.

"Try not to let those bullies cause you physical pain today," Brendon said, after hearing that Ryan's dad was just about waking up. He had picked up the formal terms that Ryan taught him a few days ago, and he likes to use them in conversations.

"I'll try my best," Ryan agrees, knowing it'd probably be the same as usual, but he could at least promise for Brendon. "You know, I feel the emotional pain when I'm not with you," Ryan says, using one of the terms as well, since it helps Brendon understand things better.

Brendon's soft smile turned into a slight frown, feeling kind of guilty in a way. "Well, I'll be here later," he promises. Ryan smiles and leans in, grazing his lips with the boy's forehead, whispering a soft "Bye". Brendon nodded and waved, seeing the light slowly fade, and the darkness engulfing the closet once more.

-

School was particularly bad today. Ryan not only got beat up from some delinquents who can't spell words over five letters, but he also knew that he messed up on his math test. It's not his fault that he doesn't see a need for factoring polynomials.

So when he was walking home from school, he made sure to pace himself a little faster than usual, needing the comfort that Brendon so easily gives. He had a black eye this time, and his lip was sliced in the middle.

When he entered through the front door, he tossed his keys to the side, immediately furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. There were a few cardboard boxes scattered along the floor, some full of items, some empty. Ryan assumed that this was his father's way of organizing things, so he simply shrugged and began walking up the stairs habitually. 

Ryan clenched his gut a bit, since it still stung from his one-sided fight earlier. Or rather, 'physical pain', as Brendon would say.

He rushed to his room and around to the closet, pulling the wooden knobs with a big smile on his face, despite the black eye that actually had tints of purple mixed in it as well.

But when he opened the door, he stared back at only darkness. There was no boy waiting on the other side, the one with driftwood brown eyes and mocha brown bangs.

Ryan felt a stinging ache in his chest, and a clouded feeling in his head. His stomach twisted and then dropped.

No, he's imagining this. Brendon is always there. He's always waiting for him here.

But no, there was no one there. Without hesitation, Ryan darted downstairs, running down in quick movements as he ignored the previous stinging in his gut. He rounded his way to the kitchen, seeing his dad leaning on the counter with a pen in his hand and an open notepad on the counter. He must had taken another day off.

"Dad?" he asked, his voice shaking as he nervously gulped. "Um- you know the- the uh, puppet you got me. Uh- he- I mean, it's not there.." he manages to get out, really really hoping that his dad just misplaced him.

His dad averted his gaze over to him and sighed a bit. "Well, I was cleaning out some old stuff, and you never use that old thing anymore, so I donated it along with some other stuff. That old closet has too much junk in it."

No. He couldn't have.

He did.

"You what!?" Ryan practically shouted, not caring about the strangeness of a teenage boy yelling about a 'toy'. His dad's eyes widened in surprise, carefully placing his pen back on the counter as he ran another hand through his balding hair.

"Woah, calm down. I gave it to some charity, along with some other junk," he explained, shrugging carelessly. "Shipped them this morning."

All of the blood in Ryan's face immediately drained. He knew he was pale, he didn't know how pale, but he must be ghostly. His eyes were glassy with tears as he shouted again, saying, "What the hell!? How the- can I- can I still get h- it back!?" His voice was shaking and obviously nervous, and his dad was now very bewildered. 

"No, I already shipped the shit off.. Jesus Ry, why the hell are you so anxious?" he replies. Ryan ignores his question and immediately darts around the corner, rushing himself upstairs.

When he gets inside his room, he slams the door behind himself, sinking down to the floor and bringing his knees into his chest. He wrapped his arms around it anxiously, immediately breaking into choked sobs.

Brendon was his only friend. Who would he go to after getting beat up from some kids at school? Who would he sulk to after getting a bad grade on his test?

What about those nights they spent watching the pale moonlight together? Or the book, the one about the peach, he never got to read the rest of it to Brendon.

Now he's alone. Brendon was shipped off to god knows what starving child's home. He didn't deserve this. He was supposed to take Brendon outside again. He never got to teach him to ice skate, or have a picnic with him, or even get him a pet fish. Because he knows Brendon would've loved one, especially after Ryan would've taught him that you can't touch them.

Shit, now he's thinking of what would've happened. Could've happened. Won't happen.

Ryan didn't feel the tears covering his face until he brought the sleeve of his hoodie up to wipe his eye. The only sound filling the room was the sound of his pathetic sobs, all because of this one boy. Boy, not puppet. Boy.

Emotional pain definitely hurt more. 

He eventually makes his way over to the closet, scooting himself rather than walking. He brings a shaky hand up to the knob and gently pulls the wood outwards, hearing the sound of the door scraping against the carpet as it opened. That was the first sound other than his sobs that Ryan has heard in the last ten minutes.

He looked in the dark abyss that Brendon would spend most of his time in, tears still dripping from his face, and notices something on the carpet inside.

A jade leaf.

-

Six years later.

Ryan was off of work as he strolled through the nice, outdoor shopping place. He needed to find the perfect ring, since he knew Keltie was quite picky.

His eyes made contact with an ice cream place, seeing children inside licking their vanilla cones with no fear in the world. Ryan hasn't had ice cream in years.

He kept walking along, seeing the jeweler's store just ahead of him. He smiled softly as he began walking towards it, determined to find something perfect.

But just next to it, he noticed a toy shop. A quite humble one, to say the very least.

But when he looked through the glass, a reflection that he never thought would look back at him sat on one of the counters. It had painted red cheeks, stripes down running down the waterline, and driftwood brown eyes and mocha brown bangs.

Ryan reached in his pocket as he stared back at it, pulling out a jade leaf.


End file.
